An Arrow through the Heart
by cherrishish
Summary: I could have imagined a hundred different ways to more wisely spend my Saturday evening. And yet neither would have been more likely than what I was doing now. Helping a complete stranger who had fallen on my roof, unconscious and bleeding... hurt!Oliver x OC. Marked M for violence, language, later possible mature content. Set loosely somewhere in season 2.
1. Chapter 1

I could have imagined a hundred different ways to more wisely spend my Saturday evening. And yet neither would have been more likely than what I was doing now. Helping a complete stranger who had fallen on my roof, unconscious and bleeding. That right there should have been a huge warning sign to stay away, screaming of danger that might follow him. Scratch that, the biggest clue was the green hood he was wearing. But my heart would have never let me turn a blind eye. Not when someone was in need of my skills. Especially when that someone had already done so much for our city.

Who knew that would be the moment when my life changed forever.

* * *

It was a typical Saturday evening in the Glades. Loud arguments filtering out onto the streets through the windows, a gunshot or two going off in the distance, sirens wailing – indistinguishable whether it was a police car, ambulance or the fire department, possibly all three. The usual noises associated with the wave of violence that had spread through the district ever since the quake. Actually, that wasn't entirely accurate. The Glades has been the epicenter of crime for as long as I could remember, though nothing I had ever witnessed before had prepared me for what was happening now. The situation was very much akin to the festering wounds I was so used to treating, ripped open time and time again, prevented from properly healing. My services were in need now more than ever. At least to those who knew how to look for them. I refused to help those contributing to this mess, so I was very particular about my clientele.

A bag of groceries in one hand, my keys rattling in the other, I entered the apartment building after a careful glance along the street to make sure no one would jump me. That's just the kind of neighborhood I lived in. Once inside, I climbed up to the third – and top – story. It wasn't even a whole floor, just a little bump, or "growth" on top of the building. My condo was the only one here. More like a small loft used as a makeshift clinic than anything else really, though it looked nothing like it.

An apothecary would have been a more fitting description since I worked with herbs and alternative medicine mostly. The shelves with my supplies occupied most of the north wall, along with a little kitchenette, while my bed was along the opposite side. I had some fold-out cots stacked there too, to be used when needed, and a fairly large space in between with a rug and a coffee table occupying it now.

Few people – from the Chinese community mostly – knew of the existence of this place anyway, so there was no use having a bigger setup. Help was precious and rare to find in the quarter, so my clinic was a well-guarded secret that somehow eluded even the attention of the Triads. Or maybe they knew of me all along. If so they had to also hear that I would die before helping their kind. Alas – without my expertise – my herbs had no use for them either, so even raiding my place wouldn't have yielded anything of value to them. They had no leverage, so they let me be.

My one and only window and a roof access were along the eastern wall. In the mornings my apartment was flooded with the rays of the rising sun. It reminded me of my grandparents and their home country from whom and where I had learned all of my craft. I would cherish their memory to my last breath. I had nothing else left in this life.

I carefully unpacked my spoils, putting away tonight's dinner ingredients in the fridge, sorting through the different herbs and first aid supplies I was able to get my hands on in the North District. It was quite the hike but definitely worth it. I had been running low on some things for a while now, but it was kind of an all hands on deck situation in the Glades, and I hadn't had the time to venture further away to restock. The economy was as good as shot in these parts, no chance of finding suppliers. Well, except for the mob, but I refused to deal with them.

A loud crash from my little balcony – as I liked to call it – brought my attention back to the present from the routine of the herbalist that came so naturally to me for some time now. Someone had just landed – quite painfully – right outside of my roof access. Though not unheard of, that wasn't the usual way my clients came in. Chui and his friends preferred climbing the fire escape on the neighboring building to come and get me if someone in their family needed me. It was less conspicuous that way, they said. I grabbed my kunai from my belt, hiding the blade against my forearm as I peeked outside to see what had caused the ruckus.

The sight that had greeted me was not what I was expecting. A man was lying there on his side, motionless, dressed in green leather head to toe, with a hood pulled over half of his face, a quiver of arrows on his back. I knew who he was instantly. His bow was still seemingly firmly in his hand even though he looked completely out of it. Everyone knew of him in the Glades. In the whole of Starling City actually. The Arrow.

I stepped out onto the roof where I spent most of my nights – looking over the city with a heavy heart – with even more trepidation now. My eyes scanned the surrounding buildings, almost expecting whoever had done the hero of the city in to jump right over, finishing the job they had started, finishing me right along with it. But no one and nothing came.

I doubted that the Arrow knew of my clinic. Him landing here could have been a coincidence. My roof was probably just a momentary stop in his escape route, except this time it seemed like he had run out of fumes to continue his escaping. A testament to that was the arrow with a line attached sticking out of the wall of the next door building. He must have lost his grip while gliding across from wherever when his consciousness faded due to whatever injuries he had. With another nervous sweep around, my instincts of helping someone in need took over, and I rushed to his side to assess the damage that had been inflicted upon him.

I found his pulse quickly enough, a bit too weak and too fast, but steady, which was a good sign. The clamminess of skin spoke of the beginnings of shock though, blood loss was a possible issue.

The tear in his suit on his right arm quickly showed what seemed to be a bullet wound. The level of bleeding wouldn't have explained his lack of responsiveness though. Not with him being so accustomed to dealing with injuries, so I redirected my attention, trying to find the cause of his current predicament.

After I had patted him down and made sure that there were no broken bones, and removed his weaponry, I gently turned him onto his back. His hood fell away from his face naturally a bit, revealing extensive bleeding on the side of his head. That would explain quite a bit. His features were obscured by a mask and greasepaint, yet somehow I had a feeling I had seen him before. The line of his jaw seemed like one of his most prominent characteristics even with the several day's long stubble shadowing it.

My hand moved almost on its own, lightly touching the prickliness of his skin before I shook my head quickly and the errant thoughts out of my mind along with it. There was no use getting lost in thought over who he was, nor was I going to be able to help him out here in the open. That was just asking to be ambushed.

My apartment was just a few feet away yet it seemed so far now. Our mystery man had to have at least seventy pounds on me, even if made of pure muscle. Not impossible, but definitely a stretch. I took a deep breath, steeling myself before I hitched him up into a sitting position, careful to not jostle his head too much. I got behind his back, snaking my arms under his armpits and clasping my hands together at his chest firmly, dragging him back towards the door with a small grunt. Thankfully, I had only one step of stairs leading down from the roof, so I was able to navigate the Arrow without much problem to the center of my room. The cots be damned right now, I was not going to lift him up to one. I ran back outside for his bow and arrows – I supposed he felt quite attached to his prized crime-fighting possessions – then shut the door behind me, hoping no one would think to look for him here and assume that he had already moved on. I closed my blinds for good measure too.

My next steps took me to my newly acquired first aid supplies, and I brought everything back with me to the man, who still hadn't so much as twitched since I had found him. I had a terrible feeling that I might not be enough. Chinese medicine could truly do wonders in some cases, but I was woefully unprepared to treat a massive intracranial hemorrhage. Not mention unable to detect one if present.

I crouched down beside him, diving into helping him with a renewed fervor. I might not be able to do miracles, but he was sure as hell leaving here in better shape than I had found him. I unzipped his jacket to take it off to see whether any other injuries were hiding from me there. Had this not been an emergency and my attention occupied by the problem at hand, I would have probably gasped at the many scars covering his body. Deep gashes, bullet wounds, burn marks. Some long healed, some a bit more recent. No fresh bruising or swelling, tightness that would indicate internal bleeding. The only injuries I had to worry about at present were the ones on his arm and head, so my focus was on those.

I almost hated to do this to him, but the mask had to come off if I was to treat the head wound, which he needed the most. It was a rather nasty gash along his hairline. I quickly cleaned away the blood and a section of the greasepaint covering his face along with the dirt. Just enough the make sure the cut wouldn't get infected. After careful examination, I decided he definitely needed stitches on that one. The one on the arm too, so I moved to check on that one next, relieved to find that the bullet only grazed him. Good thing I had a suture kit on hand too.

With the immediate concerns of him bleeding out handled, I stood up, turning to my herbs to make a salve that would help speed up the recovery. A tonic to drink would have been great too, once the guy was conscious enough to swallow without choking, but I had a feeling once that was the case he would be out of here without much heed to my input or recommendations.

I prepared both anyway.

Once finished, I settled down by his head once again to apply the paste to his temple when suddenly his eyes popped wide open and he grabbed my hand, stopping my ministrations. Impressive reflexes I must say, especially for someone with a concussion. The grip he had on my wrist too.

He looked at me with confusion, though I had a feeling it was not due to the head trauma. He looked like he had seen a ghost.

"Shado?" the man asked me incredulously. Apparently, I reminded him of someone, though I had a feeling my oriental features had more to do with it than any real resemblance.

"My name is Xin. You are safe here," I tried to calm him. The rise in blood pressure could reopen his wounds, especially the one on the side of his forehead.

The Arrow looked at me with disbelief before it turned into something of a mild curiosity. "Heart?"

"You speak Chinese," I stated with surprise as I stared into his blue eyes, once again getting the feeling that I should know who he was.

Before we could further delve into this fascinating topic, my door was kicked open forcefully from the hallway.


	2. Chapter 2

"Digg," the Arrow uttered in recognition.

"Found him," the African American man, who had barged in uninvited, said seemingly to himself. He was probably wearing an earpiece.

Though his tone was somewhat relieved at finding the Arrow, the gun that he had in his hand, pointed right at me, had me much less reassured. So I acted like any self-respecting Chinese girl with training in martial arts would have. Before he could say a word to either of us, the kunai was out my sleeve, flying in his direction.

"Wait! He is a friend!" the Arrow shouted, his hand grabbing my arm though too late to stop me.

He watched my knife knock the newcomer's gun right out of his hand, both clattering to the ground, sliding right under my bed. The vigilante slumped in relief when the situation resolved itself without any bloodshed, while his supposed friend regarded me with a mixture of guarded and impressed curiosity.

"We are fine, don't worry," he spoke again, tilting his head ever so slightly to the side. Apparently, someone was anxious for their safety. Interesting. I had always thought that the Arrow worked alone, and yet evidence here showed that he had at least two accomplices. "Care to introduce me?" the man addressed the vigilante this time, crouching down to retrieve his weapon, then proceeded to shove it into the holster at his back.

"This is Xin," the vigilante stated with a defeated sigh as if he wished to have kept me a secret.

No one moved for a few seconds, after which I assumed that I was deemed safe, so I turned back to tending to the green-clad man's injuries.

"What's that?" the Arrow asked me warily, his eyes flitting to the bowl in my hand that contained the topical medicine I had prepared for him.

"A salve made from my herbs. It will help the wound heal faster and after absorption also reduces swelling in the brain," I informed my patient calmly as I applied it to his head wound.

His friend had moved to his other side, watching me work with fascination while assessing the vigilante's condition for himself too.

"You okay there, buddy?" Digg asked with worry. "You had us worried for a moment when your comm went silent."

It was probably unlike the Arrow to allow anyone to help him, much less to expose his identity. Not that he had had much say in the matter.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he grunted, pulling himself up into a sitting position once I was done coating the gash on his temple. He swayed a little, his complexion turning slightly green as if he was about to hurl.

"You have a concussion," I declared bluntly. He was in no shape to be moving around yet.

"I'm fine," he repeated to me too, a bit more harshly, then stubbornly got to his feet. Accepting help was _definitely_ not his strong suit.

"At least let me dress your wounds," I offered as I clambered up too, hurrying to steady him. "We don't want them to get infected after all the effort I had put into patching you up."

The Arrow cast a glance to his companion for advice. He was torn between what his instincts and common sense were telling him.

"Hey, don't look at me, man," the black guy put his hands up in surrender, chuckling a bit at his indecision. "It's your call."

The vigilante didn't say anything further, just leaned heavily against my counter in defeat, and I took it as a sign that I was permitted to carry on. I did a quick job of wrapping both his injuries with gauze, getting the feeling that he wanted to be anywhere but here.

Once I was done, he quickly shrugged on his hood that was offered to him by his friend, hiding his face from me once again.

"Let's go," the Arrow nodded to Digg, almost falling over when he leaned down for his bow and quiver. The other man caught him before he could fall, supporting his weight as they made their way to my bust-up door.

"Uhm, sorry about that," the black man apologized with a sheepish look on his face. His kick had completely broken the door off the hinges. Hadn't been too sturdy to begin with, and I wasn't really that concerned.

"Hey, catch," I remembered the tonic I had prepared, throwing the small bottle towards him. He grabbed it with his free hand easily, looking at me questioningly. "For his concussion. Have him drink an ounce three times a day till it's empty."

"Will do," Digg regarded my gift for a second before turning to exit, but the Arrow stopped him.

He seemed to hesitate just a little bit, but then faced me, bowing his head a little. "Thank you."

I have never heard a more sincere show of gratitude packed into those two words in my life ever, even though half the Chinese community in the Glades was in my debt in one way or another. And I hadn't even been able to see his face while he uttered those words. His voice was enough though. Before I could say "you're welcome" or anything of that sort, they were already gone.

* * *

My days fell right back into their usual routine after the unexpected visit of the Arrow to my humble abode. I couldn't quite get him out of mind though. On more than one occasion I awoke to the image of his piercing blue eyes staring at me in my sleep. There was so much untold emotion in them, I couldn't help but wonder about the secrets they evidently held. How he knew Mandarin for one.

It was exactly a week later when I saw him next. It came just as suddenly and unplanned as the first.

I was returning home from Chui's – after attending to his mom who had contracted the flu – and my route took me towards Verdant, the relatively new nightclub here in the Glades, run by Thea Queen.

Call it fate, or a coincidence, but just as I was passing, a fancy black Bentley pulled up to the curb on the other side of the road. I recognized the driver, the African American man, as soon as he got out of the car.

His passenger was none other than Oliver Queen. The boy lost at sea, returning to Starling just over a year ago after being gone for five years. Even if the profile of his face hadn't been enough to also recognize him as the Arrow, the moment he did a quick sweep of his surroundings as he adjusted his tailored grey suit was definitely a confirmation, for our eyes met for just a split second. Those were definitely the same blue eyes that had been haunting me for days now.

I hurried along as if nothing happened, but I was fairly certain that he had recognized me too.

At least I was happy to see that my salve had worked wonderfully. All that was left of that nasty gash on his forehead was a faint red line, barely noticeable, especially if covered by some foundation. Had I not known it was there I would have probably looked right past it.

* * *

That evening as I was preparing the next batch of remedies for Chui to pick up later, suddenly there was a knock on my roof access door.

Odd. I wasn't expecting Chui for another two hours.

When I opened the door, it was the Arrow.

On his own two feet this time, his posture imposing as ever, in a way comforting and frightening at the same time. All I could do was stare, wishing that I could see his face better.

He cleared his throat. "May I come in?"

The politeness caught me off guard but also brought me back from my reverie.

"Sure," I mumbled, stepping back and allowing him passage into the shop. "How's the head? Did you drink the tonic?"

"Uhm, yeah, it's all better know," Oliver brushed off half of the question, and even though I couldn't really see his face, I could still make out the sheepish embarrassment there. He didn't trust my concoction – or me for that matter – enough to actually drink it, or admit to this fact. Oh, well.

"Do you mind bringing the medicine back since you didn't use it? Someone else might benefit from it," I told him nonchalantly, turning to my workstation and continue with Chui's remedies.

From the corner of my eye, I could see he was taken aback by my observational skills.

"Here," he produced the vial from one of his pouches fastened to his leg and placed it on the counter.

"Thank you," I told him with a slight nod, though I definitely had not expected him to be carrying it around with him.

"We have to talk," the Arrow said seriously.

"I figured as much since you have come all this way," I replied calmly, still busy with my herbs. I had a feeling that me not giving him my full attention irritated him.

He hesitated a moment before speaking up again. "You know some things about me I didn't intend letting you know."

"And you want me to keep your identity a secret," I deduced, turning to face him so that he could ascertain my sincerity from my face. I would have taken that to the grave without asking. "I suppose it's only fair that I ask the same of you."

My statement had the Arrow confused and wary at the same time.

"This place, my clinic of sorts, and it's location. It's imperative that the Triad and other criminals not learn of it," I explained. "I'm afraid I must insist that you never come here, ever again."

"That is fair I guess," Oliver agreed, though he seemed sad with how that had played out. It couldn't be helped though. Someone could notice if he started frequenting the apartment.

"But if you ever need my help again, call me," with that I pulled out a slip of paper, like the ones on which I usually write the dosage information for my patients, and scribbled my phone number on it.

The Arrow took the note, staring at it for a bit, before pocketing it. I wasn't sure if he would ever call me, but the fact that he didn't burn the piece of paper instantly in the flame of my one-burner stove seemed like an olive branch of sorts.

* * *

I had almost managed to forget about his blue eyes and the mesmerizing effect they had on me. Weeks went by without a word from him.

Then my cell phone rang. Unknown caller.

But instead of him, it was a frantic female voice that came through, asking for help.


End file.
